


God's Gonna Cut You Down

by Thinwhitedutchess



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Major Original Character(s), Multi, OC, Post-Canon, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 01:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15898284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thinwhitedutchess/pseuds/Thinwhitedutchess
Summary: After the reveal of the devil face and the death of Marcus Cain, Detective Chloe Decker struggles to rationalize the reality of what she has seen, with the man who she has begun to trust.Lucifer questions the return of this proof of his monstrousness as well as his future with the Detective and in LAMeanwhile, another angel falls, and a few of Lucifer's siblings decide to pay him a visit.This is a story about what it means to be human, and what it means to be in love.





	1. What's down in the dark will be brought to the light

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! And this time with a different Fandom. First off, I want to say I am hijacking the Azrael character and making her a totally different character than she has been revealed to be on the show. Sorry, not sorry, I love how they portrayed her on the show but.... I just really wanted to do my own OC version of Azrael.  
> ANYWAY! I'm excited about this so let's see how this goes.  
> Let me know your thoughts...

Cain had died laughing. Laughing and gasping for breath.

Lucifer was certain that in the end, Cain had regretted his actions as much as any mortal or mad man regretted anything. But still. That glee, those ageless eyes that had seen mankind rise, nations fall and earth burn and be reborn again...

There had been joy there. And somehow that terrified Lucifer. The Devil himself, frightened by a dying man.

The Los Angeles Loft, porcelain and pristine, its high ceilings lit by the long glassine windows which also served as walls were awash in blood. Blood, fallen bodies....

... and feathers, snow white, and broken at the bone.

His feathers. For all the times he had sliced his own wings from his body, he had never blanched at the violence of it. But this time the scattered plumage brought bile rising in his throat.

He would do it all again, he thought, he would do it all again to save her.

It was then that her voice rang out in the cavernous room, calling his name.

He stood slowly, turning toward her. She was safe now, he had made certain Cain would never touch her again, never harm her. 

So why did she look suddenly so afraid?

She was muttering to herself, as she backed away from him.

"It's all true," Her lips barely moving. "It's all true."

"Detective..?" He questioned, head cocking in confusion. He had always been honest with her. Not simply because of his literal inability to lie, but because he had simply wanted to. Wanted her to know him.

And of course, after the events of today, now she would have to know, she would have to trust.

But it wasn't trust glimmering in her green eyes, now. 

Suddenly it all came clear to him, his last exchange with Cain...

_"You cannot deny what you have done, who you really are..."_

_He had then watched the glee form in Cain's eyes, even as the light went out._

_"And it seems that neither can you..."_

He raised his hands to his face then, knowing what he would find there.

His normally smooth, tanned skin, the face he was born with, had been replaced by the face he had come to know in Hell. The burned, cracked red skin, features broken and then reassembled as if by a particularly grim Picasso. 

His Devil Face had returned. And, of course, it had chosen just about the worst possible time to do so.

He shifted his face back to the one she had come to love, to trust, to know. But of course it was too late. She could not unsee what she had seen, could not unknow what she now knew.

Lucifer Morningstar, the partner she had allowed into her life.

He was the Devil.

* * *

 

Lucifer had only stayed at the crime scene just long enough to give a statement and clear up his side of the story with Dan and Ella. Thankfully with the surplus of evidence that they had already discovered implicating Cain (or Marcus Pierce) as the Sinnerman and therefore culpable in the death of Charlotte Richards, the obvious violence that had come of the confrontation between Chloe and Lucifer and Cain and Co. was easily wrapped up, with minimal paperwork even.

The Detective had managed to reel in her state of shock, but she still steered clear of Lucifer as they went about clearing things up individually on both sides.

He had tried to grab her before he left, literally grabbing her arm as she rushed out of the crime scene. It was her flinch that had done it for him, her rapid intake of air, she didn't want to be touched by him. Not now that she knew the truth about him.

And he had been prepared. Had known she would run once she knew the truth, was faced with that undeniable proof, his monstrousness literally staring her in the face.

And somehow it had still hurt. He was an expert of torture after all.

Of course the torture didn't stop at the emotional, throw in the physical and he was surprised he was able to keep his eyes open. 

The minute he arrived back in his top floor loft, the stone Assyrian walls and black and gold interior creating an appropriately dim environment, he stripped himself out of his torn blazer and button down. 

His skin was entirely unblemished, but it wasn't his skin that he was concerned about. 

Slowly and tenderly he unfurled his wings. 

They were a gruesome sight, the soft feathers stained red with blood, bits of bone sticking out at awkward angles. 

They were already beginning to heal now that he was out of range of the detective, but he still reveled in the slight stabs of pain leftover from the gunshots.

He deserved it, he knew. He had killed a human, as despicable as that human might have been, and he had frightened away the only woman he had ever loved. 

There were so few he had loved in his life. And even fewer who had ever loved him.

He pulled a half empty bottle of bourbon from his liquor bar and uncorked it with his teeth before sinking to the floor behind the bartop. 

His wings were still unfurled, crusted with blood. He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and stared.

He wanted more than anything to speak to the detective, to hear her voice, to explain... or at least try to.

Instead he tucked his phone back into the pocket of his crumpled jacket and stood, almost in a daze.

He strode through his loft, moving to his wardrobe, where he had stowed away his crumpled wings the last two times he had removed them. 

His brother had disposed of them that time. His brother was no longer here. 

He pulled one of Maze's daggers from the shelf.

It was a tight stretch, but he had done it before.

He contorted his arms, jamming the blade upward, his eyes began to tear and he gritted his teeth to keep from screaming. 

He wondered at the human equivalent to this pain, perhaps removing a shoulder blade, or cutting off one's arm without anesthesia. Some essential extremity.

This time he didn't entertain the notion that they would grow back.

He brought the dagger down on the top half of the wing and cut deep, as deep as he could reach. 

Then he closed his eyes, tightened his fist against his now loosely hanging wing.

And he pulled.

* * *

 He spent 24 hours locked in his loft, lights out, waving in and out of a drunken stupor. His back healed.

His wings did not return.

After that day he forced himself to shower, clean up the shards of glass leftover from the bottles he had broken upon emptying them, and pour himself into an elegant designer suit.

He was the Devil, the ultimate rebel of Hell, he should be celebrating his kill, mocking his adversary.

But as he stood in the glowing fluorescent lights of his nightclub, he found he could not reign in his mind.

Vodka was poured down his throat by artificially tanned dancers, and he thought about the nights he had spent with Chloe and her daughter, sipping red wine and playing Monopoly on the floor.

Techno music blasted from the sound system, but his eyes were dragged over to the empty piano, his ears filled with the sounds of a duet from long ago.

When he stood in the elevator on the way back to his upstairs loft, he stood alone.

Satan rose that night, several flights up to the elegant penthouse he called home.

Several nights previously, another angel fell, all the way to Earth, landing in Los Angeles.

But when we fall, we do not fall alone. 

And this Angel brought with him a few friends, intent on finding him

Of course their search brought them straight to Lucifer's home, in front of the nightclub he had named Lux.

Angels, they have an ingrained sense of where best to party.

 

 


	2. Tell The Midnight Rider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Angels have landed, and they are here to give Lucifer a lot of trouble, and a little bit of much-needed perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can always tell when i feel truly inspired with a story, and that is how I feel about this one. I haven't felt this way since Rebirth, and I am so happy to see people really enjoying my writing. Let me know your thoughts, once again!

They stand before the nightclub, Lux. Three of them, in ragged castoffs stolen from some poor woman's LAX suitcase. The bouncer spots them almost immediately. Of course he does, they stand at the front of the line as if they had been born to be first.

And in many ways, they were.

But they stand before many who are better dressed, who have spent much longer on their contour at the very least.

"Lady's I hate to say it, but you really need to head to the back of the line."

Two of the women simply tilt their heads in confusion, as if they had never been told no before.

And.... well, they have. But only by the good lord himself.

One of them, the most beautiful if them, with doe like dark eyes, sun-glowing skin and stick straight walnut colored hair, walk straight up to him and grabs his face.

He is gone before she even lays her lips on his.

By the time she pulls away, all three have made it into the club.

Poor, poor bouncer. How torturous to be kissed by an angel.

Only once...

* * *

 

They walk down the spiral staircase to Lux.

You see, immortals, they can sense each other.

There is an energy that rings different between the perfect beings of heaven and those standing on the soil of earth.

Have you ever heard a clear falsetto after a drunken hobo? Or perhaps a dying gasp as opposed to a child's laughter.

It is an intrinsic difference, and when you hear that perfection...

Well, you never mistake it again, do you?

Mazikeen watches the three women approach her at the bar.

She is dressed, head to toe in leather and, as usual, she has he knives with her.

She isn't worried until the tallest one. The one with jet black hair, the palest complexion and darkest blue eyes grabs her by the throat and tosses her against the bar as if she were nothing.

Instead of murdering her outright, the tall girl straddles her, weight not as heavy as one would think.

She hears a voice in her ear, not the one on top of her.

"Darling girl, where can we find Lucifer Morningstar?"

Maze rolls her eyes before jerking her chin in the general direction of the elevator.

The tall girl rolls off of her and she sees the three women stand in the elevator as it closes.

Well, Lucifer is a big boy, right?

Maze almost feels sorry for him.

* * *

 Lucifer sat at his piano but did not play, could not summon the enthusiasm to put finger to key. Rather he merely sat, nursing a glass of rye, waiting ... well, for what he could not say.

Certainly not for the interruption which came with the opening of his private elevator doors.

When he heard the doors open and saw the silhouettes which stood there he found he could not even summon a flippant dismissal.

"'Fraid you three will have to seek out your pleasure elsewhere loves" Ok so he did have a flippant greeting in there somewhere, "Fresh out of affection today, unfortunately."

Finally, as he heard the three women step into the room and the doors close behind them he stood up, and his eyes went wide.

The curly-haired girl with the enormous green eyes spoke. "Samael, I always knew your proclivities ventured toward the more deviant, but I never would have guessed incest was within your repertoire."

"Azrael," He named her before turning toward the tall girl and the beautiful one in turn. "Sandalphon and Seraphiel."

Azrael grinned a rictus grin. "Hello brother."

 


End file.
